


Wait By the Light of the Moon

by BarlowGirl



Series: Come to My Window [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, But there are erections, Derek POV, Derek has Bad Thoughts about Stiles, Derek is twenty-two because I have head-canon, Lydia and Stiles are bros, M for language and drinking and stuff, M/M, Not by a main character, Pre-Slash, Sadly, Stiles gets roofied, Underage Drinking, Who is seventeen, not smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarlowGirl/pseuds/BarlowGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles leaned on Derek more than he walked out to the car, but they got there eventually, and it wasn’t long before Derek was trying to shove a drunk, apparently boneless teenager into his car.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Jesus,” he muttered, cupping his hand over the top of Stiles’ head to guide him. “Don’t give yourself a concussion now, idiot.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He folded the kid into the car and buckled him in, trying to avoid the soft skin of Stiles’ stomach where his shirt had rode up. Bad enough he had the Sheriff’s drunk, underage son in his car. He didn’t need to be hard while he drove home.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>God, he was so going to get arrested again.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait By the Light of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done this before *hides* Jackson's in this because I wrote it before the news came out about Colton leaving the show. Pretend he leaves after this or something ;) OH the title is from Come to My Window by Melissa Etheridge because I enjoy puns. This series will be three parts and they'll be posted pretty soon.

At some point, Stiles had gotten hold of his phone and changed the ringtone to “Hungry Like the Wolf.” Derek wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than what it had been last time. People had given him funny looks for the Adele song Stiles had thought was funny. And honestly he really needed to find the instructions for this thing. Leaving it on vibrate all the time wasn’t practical.

He grabbed his phone off the floor next to his mattress without looking. “What?”

“You need to come get Stiles.”

Derek blinked and lifted his phone in front of his face to stare at the display for a long moment. The caller ID said… Flawless Strawberry Blonde Queen – damn it, Stiles. “Lydia?”

What was she doing calling him so late? Or at all, really. Lydia pretty much avoided the Hales in general these days. He imagined being involved in the resurrection of the man who attacked you, who happened to be the uncle of the guy who accidentally made your boyfriend into a giant lizard, kind of made you not so fond of a family.

“Yes, Lydia. Come get Stiles.”

He snorted. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because otherwise Jackson will eat him.” Lydia rattled off an address. “Do you need me to wait while you write that down?”

“No. Lydia–”

“Good,” she interrupted. “See you in ten minutes, then.”

She hung up while he was still trying to figure out what was going on. He sighed into the darkness, running a hand through his hair. It was supposed to be a quiet Friday night. Everything had been quiet lately. Which probably should have been the first sign something would go wrong.

Derek slid off the mattress on the floor less gracefully than he cared to admit. Hopefully nobody was bleeding, he thought as he pulled on a pair of jeans. Usually there was more shouting when somebody was bleeding.

 

 

“You seriously called me at three am because Stiles got drunk?”

Lydia levelled a glare at him that reminded him uncomfortably of Laura. Maybe it was a good thing she was immune to the bite, Derek thought. Lydia was frightening enough without claws when she wanted to be.

“No,” she said tightly. “I called you because Stiles got _drugged_.”

“What?” 

Stiles mumbled something from the couch, his arms over his face.

Lydia took a step closer to touch his arm. “Shh, honey, don’t fuss.”

Derek shoved his hands into his pockets, his back uncomfortably tight. “What happened?”

Lydia gave Stiles a pat and turned back to Derek. “Danny had a party tonight. Somebody slipped Stiles something. Scott’s off with Isaac doing God knows what and he won’t answer his phone—”

Stiles moaned. “Scott’s a terrible, awful friend.”

A small smile curved Lydia’s mouth. “Yes, honey, we know. Scott won’t answer and Jackson wasn’t handling being around Stiles like this so well. He doesn’t want me to call his dad, Danny’s human and has a trashed house to deal with, and I may be—”

“Amazing strawberry blond goddess,” Stiles muttered.

Lydia patted him again. “Yes, we know that, too. But I can’t hear if something goes bad with his heart or smell if whatever he was dosed with begins to make him sick. He either needs to go to the hospital or have someone near him who can tell he’s okay.”

Derek frowned. “So you called me.”

Lydia’s face went tight for a minute before she shook her hair out of her face. “You are his Alpha. He’s your pack. And you are going to take care of him because I am done being fucked over by werewolves. One of my best friends has access to heavy artillery and I am fairly certain I know how to make a grenade. I can and will set you on fire, shoot you with wolfsbane, and then blow you up. Got it?”

Derek tried not to smile. No. Lydia did not ever need claws. “Got it. Can he walk?”

She shrugged. “Your guess is as a good as mine. Stiles, honey, do you think you can stand up?”

Stiles mumbled nonsense as she pulled and tugged him to his feet. He stood on his own for a moment before his knees wobbled. Lydia muttered a curse and shoved her shoulders under his arm, wincing at his weight.

“Here.” Derek stepped forward before he knew what he was doing. “I can–”

“Be my guest,” Lydia said. “He’s heavy.”

The next thing he knew, he had an armful of warm, drunk Stiles. Okay, then. He could work with this.

Something caught his eye. Derek nudged Stiles back a few inches, holding him steady with a hand on his shoulder. He touched a finger to the darkening bruise on the kid’s forehead. “What happened to your head?”

“Fell,” Stiles stated, blinking owlishly.

Lydia smothered a laugh. “And that is why he was lying down. It’s not bad, I don’t think. He didn’t black out or anything. He just sat there looking like the coffee table had kicked his puppy. Or Scott. But he bruises—”

“Like a motherfucking peach!” Stiles declared, burying his face against Derek’s neck. Derek didn’t know whether to laugh, shove him away or press closer. He did nothing as Stiles sighed loudly against his throat. “And Scott is a terrible friend.”

Derek snorted. “No kidding.” A whiff of blood gathered under skin has him catching Stiles’ hand in his, lifting it to examine the bruises ringing his wrist. They almost looked like… fingers. “What are the other bruises from?”

Lydia’s eyes went cold. “I… just take him home, okay? He can tell you tomorrow if he wants.”

There was something more there, but Lydia was getting that perfectly-capable-of-murder, slightly-broken, look. He didn’t want to think about who that look reminded him of. He wasn’t sure he’d like his own answer.

“Okay,” Derek said, balancing a tilting Stiles before he fell over. “And… Lydia?”

She smiled. “Yes?”

“I…” He wrapped a hand around Stiles’ arm, trying to keep the kid from tipping over again. “Thanks for calling. You know you always can, right? That’s… that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

She shrugged, beginning to fold the blanket that Stiles had been wrapped around. “It was the best option. And you are the Alpha now.”

He felt vaguely mocked and resisted the urge to grin. “I’m your Alpha, too, you know. If you want to be pack, I mean.”

“I know. Keep your creepy undead uncle away from me and we can talk about it sometime. We’ll have tea.”

Yup, there was definite mocking there.

He hid another grin. “Right. Call if you need anything else.”

Stiles leaned on Derek more than he walked out to the car, but they got there eventually, and it wasn’t long before Derek was trying to shove a drunk, apparently boneless teenager into his car.

“Jesus,” he muttered, cupping his hand over the top of Stiles’ head to guide him. “Don’t give yourself a concussion now, idiot.”

He folded the kid into the car and buckled him in, trying to avoid the soft skin of Stiles’ stomach where his shirt had rode up. Bad enough he had the Sheriff’s drunk, underage son in his car. He didn’t need to be hard while he drove home.

God, he was so going to get arrested again.

Stiles stayed quiet for a few minutes. It wasn’t until the house had left his rear-view mirror that the kid groaned, sinking lower into the passenger seat.

“’M an idiot,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “So?”

Stiles groaned again.

Derek flicked a glance at him. He seemed more aware than he’d been a few minutes ago. Less clingy, too, which was a good thing. Of course it was. “What did you do? And don’t you dare puke in my car.”

“Not gonna. I think.” Stiles rubbed his head. “Pretty sure. I sort of came out. To a bunch of people. Most of whom I did not know.”

Derek kept his eyes on the road, practically feeling the heat of Stiles’ blush. “You wanna tell me what happened? You don’t usually hang around with Jackson, do you?”

Stiles leaned against the window. “Lydia invited me. Wasn’t trying to… I like being her friend. She’s kind of seriously awesome. But she loves Jackson and that’s okay because it makes her happy and that’s really good.”

“So you were…”

Stiles shrugged. “Hanging out with friends? Scott’s not my only friend.”

Derek glanced at Stiles. He wasn’t entirely sure that would be true if Scott hadn’t been bitten, but he wasn’t enough of a dick to say that. “How much did you drink?”

“No idea, man.” Stiles gave a snort. “I was on my second beer when one of Danny’s friends said we should play never have I ever. You ever play that?”

The corner of his mouth tilted up against his will. “Never have I ever been human, Stiles.”

Stiles jerked, staring at him with eyes that should not be that big. “Did you just make a joke? You made a joke! Good for you, not being all murderous all the time.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “So what happened?”

When he glanced at the kid, Stiles was rubbing his cheek with long, unsteady fingers. “Somebody… one of Danny’s friends, I don’t really know the girl… but Danny hadn’t taken a shot in like four rounds. She was teasing him and she asked a question… don’t even remember it now. It was about guys and…”

“I get it,” Derek said quietly. “You weren’t ready to tell people?”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. I was… well, I thought maybe I’d have the courage to actually make a move on one of the three people I’ve ever had a crush on who wasn’t Scarlett Johansen. And then he was making out with someone else most of the evening. I mean… I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. Wasn’t a secret. But… I just sort of wanted it to become one of those things everyone knew, not a big announcement. And…”

Derek rubbed his itchy nose. Something smelled strange in the car, but he couldn’t place it. “Yeah?”

The kid looked away, staring out the window as streetlights flashed over his face. “Thought everything was normal at first. Did a couple shots. I did one for – I don’t remember. Things started getting fuzzy about then. Some guy called me a slut.”

Derek’s gums ached suddenly. He bit down on his tongue, tasting blood for a second before it healed. Then he took a slow breath and pulled back the urge to bare his teeth, his fangs. He wasn’t sixteen anymore. He didn’t lose control like that, especially not around humans. He knew better. “What.”

Stiles sighed. “Don’t worry. Nobody liked it. Danny kicked him out. Then my head went weird and… I was really hot and all the people started making me feel weird. I went out into the kitchen to get some air. Then somebody slammed me against a wall and trust me, I really don’t like it when people other than you do that.”

“Other than me?”

Stiles shifted on the front seat. “Scott, Mr. Argent, Erica. Peter slammed me into the hood of a car. You were the only one who didn’t leave bruises, FYI. Well, not from the wall. The steering wheel left a mark for a while,” he mumbled as Derek pulled into the Stilinski driveway. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“I’m not nice,” Derek muttered, leaning over to undo Stiles’ seatbelt.

“’Course you’re not.” Stiles’ breath came way too close to Derek’s ear for comfort, voice husky. Derek jerked back into his seat as soon as the seatbelt was off, heart pounding and half-hard. “He was a werewolf, by the way.”

Cold, unfamiliar fear ran down Derek’s spine. Before he could stop himself, he leaned back into Stiles’ space, breathing in the tangled mess of scents from the boy in his car.

Another werewolf, yes but also… soap, clean and simple, his mind helpfully supplied. Deodorant, a little spicy. Hints of the Sheriff, of Scott, of Lydia and Jackson. Beer, vodka, other party smells that made his head hurt. Sweat, but most of it was Stiles’ and only traces of it now. The smell of salt lingered on his skin, though, on his face, and Derek wondered if Stiles had been crying. He hoped not. And underneath it all, the sweet, clean scent of Stiles.

He drew back slowly. “Sorry, I – did he hurt you?”

Stiles seemed to pull into himself, away from Derek. “No. Not really. Basically he told me I talked too much and I should put my mouth to better use and then Jackson was beating the crap out of him. That was nice, actually. Stupid. Dude had red eyes. But nice.”

Derek blinked. “That’s why Jackson wasn’t okay around you?”

Stiles shrugged again, leaning his forehead against the window. His eyes closed. “I guess, yeah. Every time he got close enough to smell me, he got all growly and furry and eye flashy.”

Derek slowly opened the driver’s side door. Halfway around the car, he stopped and pulled his phone out of his jacket.

 

**To: Lizard Boy**

**From: Derek  
**

**Protecting your packmates is a good instinct. Especially the humans. We can work on the control. You did good tonight.**

He hesitated before shooting off another text.

 

**To: Puppy Chow**

**From: Derek  
**

**Scott, keep a closer eye on Stiles. He got drugged tonight, came out and nearly got attacked by an Alpha.**

**To: Derek**

**From: Puppy Chow  
**

**is he ok???????????**

**To: Puppy Chow**

**From: Derek  
**

**Fine. I don’t think he’s gonna want to talk about it tomorrow. Just keep an eye on him.**

**To: Derek  
**

**From: Puppy Chow  
**

**yeah, ok. he came out? wut do u mean?**

Derek frowned at his phone. Scott had to know, right? Stiles had said it wasn’t a secret. Scott would know if it wasn’t… although Scott didn’t have a great track record for figuring things out on his own.

 

**To: Derek  
**

**From: Puppy Chow  
**

**wait, u mean that he’s bi? but that’s not a big deal. did someone give him a hard time about it?**

**To: Puppy Chow**

**From: Derek  
**

**The Alpha who cornered him. Just… stay close to him for a while.**

**To: Derek  
**

****From: Puppy Chow** **

**Will do.**

Derek nodded to himself. Good. That was the way it should be, pack members looking out for each other. Scott didn’t need to know anymore. Not tonight. And it wasn’t Derek’s story to tell anyways. If Stiles wanted to tell Scott about it, he could when he was sober.

But thank God he hadn’t accidentally outed Stiles to Scott. Maybe Scott was a bit more perceptive sometimes than Derek gave him credit for. And… hadn’t they’d been friends for years?

He tapped his cell phone against his palm, trying to remember things he had spent over seven years trying to forget. Those two idiots would have been in middle school still, wouldn’t have they? They would have been nine or ten, maybe eleven tops when the fire happened.

He remembered Stiles’ father, back when the Sheriff had still been a deputy. Remembered noticing how tired the man had looked back then, remembered noticing it even through the fog of _something’s wrong something’s wrong somethingissososowrongwrongwrong_ he’d been feelings for long moments before he’d finally been pulled out of class.

Derek shook his head. He couldn’t remember either Scott or Stiles.

But had Stiles been Stiles back then? That sure as hell wasn’t his real name, right? Nobody would name their kid Stiles Stilinski.

 

**To: Puppy Chow**

**From: Derek  
**

**Scott, what’s Stiles’ first name?**

**To: Derek  
**

****From: Puppy Chow** **

**i’ve been banned from telling people that on the threat of pain and death. and stiles has access to wolfsbane and bullets. i’ll never tell.**

 

Derek shoved his phone into his pocket and walked around to open the door. “Come on,” he said, his voice surprising him with its softness. “Let’s get you inside. And you need to quit stealing my phone. Lizard Boy and Puppy Chow? Really, Stiles?” 

The kid grinned, bright and sloppy and kind of beautiful. Something in Derek’s chest lurched. “I know, not my best work but it’ll drive Jackson nuts if he ever finds out and I was running out of time before you guys got back. Erica’s Catwoman, by the way.”

“What’s Isaac?”

“Angel Face. He shared his candy that day. Also, the curls.”

Derek smiled and it felt nice. Nice, but rare for it to slip onto his face without forcing it, without needing it to be a weapon, without wanting to taunt with it. He thought maybe he could get used to that. “Maybe I’ll keep that one. What’d you call yourself this time?”

Stiles reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll have to wait to find out,” he announced, and wobbled. “Whoa. You’re all funny colours right now.”

“And you need to find a flat surface before you break your face on one.”

 

 

Derek dropped Stiles onto the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to the kid’s shoulder to keep him from bouncing right off.

Stiles frowned down at his feet. “Shoes. Bed. Don’t wanna wash my sheets tomorrow.”

“Oh, you are so frickin’ pathetic right now.” Derek dropped to his knees in front of Stiles, lifting the kid’s foot onto his thigh.

“Story of my life.”

Derek looked up at the boy sitting on the edge of the bed above him, face half-lit by the lamp on his desk. _What big eyes you have,_ he thought and nearly choked biting back his laughter at his own stupid thoughts. For a second, he considered saying the silly line to Stiles, to see how he’d react. How would he handle knowing the big bad wolf couldn’t figure him out?

“It’s not,” he said instead. “It’s really not.”

He pulled Stiles’ sneakers off, slipped them under the bed. Then, because he knew Stiles hated sleeping in them – although Derek didn’t want to examine _how_ exactly he knew that – he pulled each of his socks off and tossed them at the laundry basket in the corner.

“Hey.” He looked up and jiggled Stiles’ knee. “What’s your first name? Your real one?”

Stiles laughed, a full body, open-mouthed, beautiful thing he didn’t see enough and flopped back flat on the bed. “Oh, I am so not drunk enough to tell you that. Nice try, though, buddy.”

He should stop now. The shoes and socks were off. That was fine. He should _not_ be undressing the Sheriff’s drunk seventeen year old son.

Derek swallowed. “Do you – you gonna be able to fall asleep in jeans?”

“Probably,” Stiles mumbled from under his arms. “No.”

Eyes shut, Stiles reached down, hips lifting off the bed, and popped the button of the his jeans. He shoved the zipper down and threw his arms over his face again. “There. Can wiggle til they fall off now.”

He made some insane roll of his hips and Derek almost groaned, his own jeans suddenly too tight. Hell, Hell, he was going to the special, extra awful Hell for adult werewolves who got boners from watching drunk seventeen year olds wiggle.

Okay, he’d done this for younger pack members before. For the pups in his family who’d worn themselves out playing in the forest while the older wolves ran, back when he was still in that in-between space of not-child and not-adult. He’d even done this for Isaac, once, when a fight with another wolf had left him covered in blood and too weak to move.

Derek exhaled. Of course, Isaac had been unconscious then…

He rolled his eyes at himself. “Just… lift your ass off the bed a bit and hold still.”

Stiles gave a muffled giggle. “’Kay. No comment. Just ’kay.”

Why the hell was Stiles’ giggling making his face so hot?

Derek gave up and tugged the jeans off. For a moment, he felt the weight of Stiles’ wallet heavy in the back pocket. His license would have his first name… but for some reason, he didn’t want to find out that way.

He tossed the jeans over the chair in the corner and stood up, wrapping his fingers around Stiles’ wrist to joggle him. Wrists were safe. Wrists were not long, pale legs. “Hey. Good to sleep now?”

“No.” Stiles lifted his other hand. “Pull me up.”

He sighed and tugged until the kid was upright, although wobbling something fierce. “What now?”

“Too many shirts.”

For a moment he thought about arguing, but the kid was lilting to the left a little more with each moment that passed, like his body was too heavy for him to hold up.

One more thing, Derek thought, a bit desperately. Just this one more thing, then it’d be done and the fucking _smell_ of Stiles wouldn’t be making him want to–

He ground teeth that were on the edge of too-sharp together and stripped Stiles down to one T-shirt, a worn white thing that clung too close to his shoulders and stomach for Derek’s comfort.

Stiles smiled, slow and sleepy. “Thanks.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. Get in bed already.”

The kid yawned. “Bossy, bossy Alpha,” he teased, but turned and half-fell across the bed. He groped at the covers until they were pulled far enough down that he could crawl under them.

Derek most definitely did not watch his ass as he did so.

Stiles curled up on his side around a pillow, smashing his face into it. “Stay?” he mumbled into the pillowcase. “Dad’s gonna be gone all night. Someone should probably make sure I don’t die.” He smacked the empty space next to him. “C’mon, get your werewolf ass over here and sit down. Don’t just loom there.”

Frowning, Derek sat on the other side of the bed. “You really think I’d leave you alone like this?”

“Dunno. You really think I’d let you drown in a pool?”

Derek suppressed a shudder. That was not a memory he enjoyed thinking about. Funny how water had crept into his nightmares and yet the fire still burned in them.

“For a moment there, I wasn’t sure,” he admitted quietly. “I mean, there was that whole part where I was paralyzed and you dropped me.”

Stiles peeked at him with one honey brown eye. “There was also the part where I jumped into a pool for you and held you above water for two hours. And the part where I almost cut your arm off because you told me to. Or the part where you kept me safe from Peter in the hospital. Or the part where the reason you got paralyzed was ‘cause you turned to shove me away.”

Something strange and soft and warm twisted in his stomach. He reached over and shoved Stiles’ face into the pillow. “Shut up and go to sleep, asshole.”

The kid flailed, slapping Derek’s hands away and taking an overdramatic gasp of air. “Fuck you, Jo-Jo.”

Derek flipped him off.

Stiles squirmed around for a moment, twisting to scratch his back under the thin white shirt, wiggling deeper under the sheets, bunching and shoving his pillow, until he _finally_ settled. Once again, Derek found himself being regarded by one eye.

He stared at the ceiling, glancing over occasionally until that eye closed. He sighed. Maybe the kid would shut up now.

“’M sorry,” Stiles mumbled.

Of course he was still talking.

“Man, you talk a lot when you’re drunk.” Derek snorted softly. “I thought you talked a lot before. But you don’t, do you? What are you sorry for?”

Stiles’ face pressed deeper into the pillow. “For digging up your sister. For… for not acting like Laura _was_ somebody’s sister when I told Scott we should go look for a body in the woods. ’Cause she wasn’t just a body. She was your sister and your Alpha and probably your friend, right? She was your family. And… nobody should ever be just a body. I can’t – my mom would have been so pissed at me.”

Derek did remember Mrs. Stilinski, at least a little. He remembered the smell of the sickness that had lingered around her, around their family, before he and Laura left town. They hadn’t told anyone where they’d gone, so he wasn’t certain of how long it had been…

But did that kind of thing really ever get better? Easier?

Taking a slow breath, he reached over and ran his hand over the back of Stiles’ head. The hair was shorter than usual, probably freshly buzzed, and felt strange under his palm. Not bad. But strange.

“Yeah,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb against the skin behind Stiles’ ear. “It’s alright. You were just being a stupid teenager. Everybody is at one point.”

His stupid teenaged mistake had ended with his entire family being burned to death. Things paled in comparison.

Derek cleared his throat. Then he slid his hand down and carefully squeezed the back of Stiles’ neck. “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

The kid stretched. “Mmf. I am. You can stay.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“No.” Stiles yawned. “I mean, you can stay. Nobody’s gonna make you leave. Well, maybe my dad but he’s not gonna be home til like six. And you’re allowed to stay. You don’t just have to so I don’t die. We’re sort of friends, right? You can just… stay because you want to.”

For a moment, Derek let himself look around the bedroom. There was crap everywhere. Toy skeletons and skulls, pens and pencils spilled across the desk, laundry that _really_ needed to be washed soon in the corners, books everywhere, and posters and photos slapped seemingly randomly on the walls. It was messy and a bit chaotic and kind of made Derek wonder if this was what the inside of Stiles’ mind was like.

It also smelled good. Like the laundry detergent lingering on still-fresh sheets, the cookies Stiles had stashed in a desk drawer, the traces of his pack he could pick out here and there if he focused. Like Stiles. And, slowly, more and more like Derek himself.

He listened to the sound of breath evening out, a heartbeat slowing down as the owner slipped into sleep. Only when he thought Stiles was deeply asleep enough that he wouldn’t wake, did Derek smooth his palm over the back of the kid’s head again.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay.”


End file.
